After the World Was Won
by rynling
Summary: An after-game story told in a series of reunions between Setzer and Daryl.
1. Chapter One

Chapter One

The fortunes of the port city Nikeah had drastically improved after the fall of Kefka. The international economy as a whole had picked up as the wind and water currents stabilized and the soil began to purify itself. As cities were repaired and the population boomed, Nikeah found itself quite literally at the center of the world, with its shipping and banking industries flourishing as never before. The city had always been split between the grandeur of the hillside mansions of the nobility and the salty warren of the dockside brokers and shipman's quarters, but the sudden influx of people and goods quickly transformed Nikeah into a capital of commerce.

In the year since Kefka's defeat, Setzer Gabbiani had started up an airship development company on the flat, windy plains east of the island city Doma. Advance orders had poured in, and the engineer found himself in the middle of a flurry of managerial activity. He had come to Nikeah to square his fledgling company's finances with one of the banks that had managed his enormous wealth since before the war. Having secured a partnership over a business lunch, he had excused himself and now walked through the university district, admiring the changes that were transforming the face of the city.

He sat down on the ledge encircling a fountain in the middle on one of Nikeah's many marketplace piazzas and looked out over the crowd. His face was famous, and normally he would have attracted a great deal of attention, but in the bustle of moving bodies he was able to remain unnoticed. With a pilot's trained eye he took in the buildings lining the plaza, noticing how several of them had repaired damage from the cataclysm with more technologically advanced building materials, and how the vapor coming from most chimneys seemed to be steam, not smoke. Even in an old city like this, the world had moved on.

Suddenly, he saw a face in the crowd. It was unmistakable. It was her face. Her hair was short and unstyled, and her clothes were bland and ill-fitting, but it was unmistakably Daryl. Setzer rose to his feet and stared at her. Across the expanse of cobblestones and over the heads of the crowd, their eyes met. Daryl seemed momentarily unsure of what she was seeing. Setzer stepped forward. Daryl turned and ran. Setzer sprinted after her.

Daryl was light-footed and knew the paths of the city, and she had a significant lead. Still, Setzer had lost none of his speed in the year since Kefka's tower crumbled, and he quickly gained on her while darting between the clusters of people that separated them. Daryl fled into the shadows of a small side street, and it was there that Setzer caught up with her. He grabbed her arm and drew her to him, softening the impact of her suddenly halted momentum with his body. Daryl immediately pushed herself away, but he caught her hand before she could run again.

Still gripping her wrist, he wordlessly pulled her into a small, nondescript café fronting the alley. Inside, the place was dimly lit through a dirty window. It had the dusty air of a vanity bar run on the bottom floor of the residence of a retired petty _bourgeois. A scratchy jazz record played as Setzer forcibly steered Daryl to a small table behind the front window. He sat down opposite her, his hand clamped over hers. They were the only customers. An older man with an overgrown mustache and a ratty gentleman's robe quickly emerged from a back room and shuffled over to their table._

_"I want two cups of coffee. Black. No, make it a pot of coffee," Setzer ordered. "I also want a bottle of your house red."_

_"Very good, sir. Would you like one glass or two?" _

_Setzer looked at Daryl. "Better make it two," she sighed._

_As the owner returned to the back room, Daryl twisted her hand underneath Setzer's grip. "What have I done to merit this untoward display of affection from you?" she asked sardonically. _

_"I would let you go if I weren't afraid you'd run off the second I did so," he said quietly, glaring at her._

_"Well, you've got me. I'm not going to run away," she replied, glaring back at him. _

_Setzer slid his hand back across the table as the café owner returned with a bottle. The vintage was common and cheap, but the owner made a show of uncorking the wine and pouring it into their glasses. The pair sat silently as he returned to the kitchen to prepare their coffee. As the rattle of dishes and the whirr of the coffee grinder floated out from the back room, Setzer gazed through the window, tapping his fingers on the table. Daryl looked at her reflection in the wine glass as she twisted its stem between her fingers. _

_Finally, Daryl raised her glass to her lips and sipped from it, grimacing. "Since when have you been the kind of man to order the house wine?" _

_"You'll have to forgive me. It seems I'm not thinking properly right now."_

_"It would appear not. Did you drag me in here just to brood silently across the table?" _

_Setzer fixed his gaze on her. "Where have you been?" he whispered fiercely. _

_"I don't see how that's any of your business."_

_"I don't see how it's not my business. I've been looking for you for almost five years."_

_The open hurt in his eyes was evident to Daryl, who looked away. The jazz record continued to play as they sat there at an impasse, neither meeting the other's eyes._

_The café owner finally reappeared with their coffee._

_"Will there be anything else?" _

_"Yes," Setzer replied, placing five 10,000 gil coins on the table. "I want you to do me a favor. I want you to put a 'Closed' sign on the door, lock it, and then go somewhere else until the two of us leave. And turn off the record player."_

_"Very well, sir." _

_When the two were alone again, Setzer turned to Daryl, who had finished her first glass of wine and was pouring a second. _

_"How is it that I finally find you in this godforsaken city? I spent almost a year scouring the ocean and every goddamn inch of coastline on this continent for your body. I found every single goddamn piece of that goddamn airship, but I never found the slightest trace of you. I disbanded our company in Vector and put all production on hold just to search for any information I could find. What the fuck have you been doing, hiding here?" _

_"This is where the Serpent Trench carried me after the Falcon fell. I managed to stay at the wheel until the ship hit the sea. The water landing went smoothly, but the velocity was too great. I was thrown into the ocean."_

_"I'm not surprised. The entire bow of the ship was pulverized." _

_"I apparently washed up on one of the lower docks of the city. I woke up in one of the rooms in a dockside brothel. The madam there had nursed me back to health. It seems I was unconscious for several months."_

_Daryl abruptly stopped talking. After a moment, Setzer spoke up. "That's amazing. What happened?" _

_"We all lived happily ever after in a gingerbread house. What the fuck do you think happened? The madam rightly decided that I owed her, and so she drew up a contract for me to pay her back." Once again, Daryl paused._

_"That shouldn't have been a problem," Setzer offered. "Nikeah was the banking capital of the world, even then. But when I consulted the head branch here, they said that no one had touched your account."_

_"Obviously not. Can you imagine how many con artists suddenly sprung out of the woodwork, claiming to be me?"_

_"Not only can I imagine, I have an exact figure. I asked that everyone claiming to be you be reported to me. They were an interesting bunch, many of them young and beautiful, with a few rather fetching men thrown in for spice."_

_"And I wouldn't doubt it if you treated them all very kindly after you were introduced." Daryl laughed humorlessly. "But think, you were halfway around the world, and I was a mangy-looking woman with nothing to call my own and nothing to prove my identity."_

_"And so how did you fulfill the terms of your contract?" _

_"How do you think?" _

_Setzer stared at her, the color draining from his face._

_"Don't be an idiot. I didn't have any money, I didn't have anywhere to go, no one knew me, and there was a group of unpleasant gentlemen always hanging around to make sure none of us suddenly decided to head for the hills. The world can be a very small place when you don't have an airship and infinite monetary resources to rely on, Setzer. You'll also kindly consider that I wasn't in a very contemplative place in my life, having just survived an airship crash. One might even say that I was somewhat distracted."_

_Setzer drained his wine glass. He produced a silver flask from one of the inside pockets of his overcoat. He unscrewed it and poured a generous amount into his coffee. _

_"I'm finding all of this hard to believe," he said, handing the flask to Daryl._

_"Fuck you," she replied, drinking straight from the flask. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and returned the silver container to him._

_"Were you so distracted that you couldn't send a letter?" Setzer asked, meeting her eyes across the table._

_"Right. About that." Daryl gazed out through the window. "You had vacated any sort of permanent address by the time I thought to do so. I got no response from anything I sent to Vector, which I suppose was inevitable, what with that girl general of theirs being sent to burn cities while Kefka pushed Cid to conduct all sorts of experiments on biological warfare. Nothing was going into that city, and all that was coming out were soldiers and nasty rumors. Meanwhile, you had apparently taken up gambling and drinking and chasing opera singers, so you'll forgive me if I decided to keep my head low."_

_"So to speak."_

_"Aren't you a charmer? In any case, it wasn't long before I found a patron who bought out my contract and offered to help me set up my own business. I took him up on the offer and set up an apothecary in one of the lower districts here."_

_"The great Daryl Highwind, chemical engineer extraordinaire, mixing potions."_

_"Apparently," Daryl replied, keeping her eyes blank and her voice even, "you don't appreciate what war can do to a woman. What if I went back to Vector? Would I become the next Celes Chere? What if I went to Figaro? I'm sure they would welcome a former employee of the Empire with open arms. I wouldn't be held hostage, or interrogated, or imprisoned. Or raped, or murdered silently in the night. And all the while, you were floating around in that ridiculous airship of yours, blithely ignorant of everything. Quite frankly, you disgusted me."_

_"In my defense, there was a reason I stopped contracting for the Empire."_

_"That's not good enough."_

_"But I did save the world?"_

_"That's what they say."_

_Daryl sighed. Setzer put his elbow on the table and rested his face in the palm of his hand._

_"This isn't turning out the way that I had hoped," he muttered._

_"I guess not." Daryl lightly traced the rim of her wine glass with her finger. _

Neither of the two said anything for several moments until Setzer broke the silence. "So what are you going now?"

"I'm in a doctoral program for chemical engineering at the university here."

"I suppose that takes money."

"I suppose it does."

"I suppose you might be suffering a bit financially at the moment."

"I suppose that indeed might be the case."

"Well then," Setzer declared, pushing his chair away from the table and rising to his feet. "I suppose we're going to have to make a trip to the bank."

"Excuse me?"

"Sitting here with you like this is depressing the hell out of me. Come on, let's go."


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

"I can't believe you dragged me here," Daryl whispered.

"And I can't believe you think you're too bohemian for this. I never thought you'd be one to spring for the starving artist gig," Setzer muttered back to her.

"Starving scholar."

"Well then, my starving scholar, do me a favor and let me do the talking. I don't want to be here all day."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a swine of a human being?"

Setzer and Daryl stood side by side in the lobby of the headquarters of Nikeah's largest bank. Setzer had immediately been greeted and attended to when he first strode through the doors of the building, and his sudden demand for a meeting with the bank's president had been quickly met with a polite request to wait for just a moment. Setzer stood tall in his elegant and finely tailored clothing, and he seemed completely at home in the lavishly appointed lobby. Daryl cut an almost pathetic figure beside him in her cheap coat and secondhand boots. She wore no makeup or jewelry, and her hair had been tousled in a rather unromantic way over the course of the afternoon's adventures. Nevertheless, she too seemed unimpressed by the building's interior.

The bank's president came out to greet them himself. As he strode across the lobby floor, his eyes quickly moved from Setzer to Daryl, and a look of unease crossed his face in the briefest of instants.

"My fine sir, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit? Surely nothing has changed since our meeting earlier this afternoon?"

"On the contrary, I am in forever in your debt," Setzer said, shaking the man's hand. "I simply need to speak to you a moment in private. The matter concerns my friend here."

"But of course," the president said unctuously, gesturing towards his office. His extra flesh jiggled slightly as he lead them across the lobby, and his bald spot was visible to the pair as they walked behind him.

Once in his office, he closed the door as they settled into chairs in front of his massive desk.

"Now then, may I have the pleasure of serving you?" he asked, folding his hands in front of him.

Setzer began with no preamble. "This woman beside me is Daryl Highwind. Since five years have not yet passed since she was declared missing, I believe you still have an account open in her name."

"We certainly do," the president said smoothly. "However, it is no simple matter to hand over the passbook to someone with no proof of identity."

"So you've met before," Setzer mused. He took a sheet of stationary and a pen from the desk in front of him. "Daryl, you've always been good with numbers. Surely you remember your account number and pass code." He handed the paper and pen to her, and she quickly scribbled down the information before handing them back to him. "Certainly this is proof enough," Setzer remarked, forcefully sliding the sheet across the desk.

"But you must understand, sir, that with no validification –"

Setzer cut him off. "Does my word not qualify as valid?" he asked, quietly.

"Certainly, sir, but there are dozens of forms –"

"Which Ms. Highwind will deal with at her convenience. The purpose of this meeting is to ensure that the proper ownership of the account is restored to your client and my friend. Do we understand each other?"

Setzer glared at the bank president. Gone was the amiable gambler who drank too much at parties and tended towards high-cut bets and low-cut dresses. What replaced him was the man who had been scarred in countless battles and survived the horrors inside Kefka's tower. His eyes flashed.

The president's smile vanished like a match extinguished in water.

"As you wish. I will return immediately," he said woodenly, brushing past the pair and out of the office.

After the president nervously closed the door behind him, Setzer sat back in his chair. "I do believe that man has known who you are for a long time," he remarked.

"Ah. So it seems that a lifetime of reading poker faces has finally proven itself useful to you," Daryl replied, unimpressed. "Anything else?"

"Judging from the way he looked at you, I would be willing to bet that he was the patron who paid off your contract."

Daryl said nothing.

"Perhaps it's time that this bank came under new management."

Daryl sighed. "Money talks."

A junior manager entered the room and presented Daryl with a set of papers and a new passbook and official seal, apologizing profusely all the while. After being escorted from the office with a sizable withdrawal and promises of remuneration, the pair was approached by numerous apologetic managers on their way out. Finally they found themselves standing in the plaza in front of the building. The sun was low in the sky behind them.

Daryl faced Setzer. "So it seems you saved me. What a prince in shining armor," she said, frowning. "I don't imagine you know how shitty it feels to have some hero suddenly swoop down into your life and make major changes in your financial situation. I suppose I should thank you, but I'm a little turned off by this sort of macho bullshit."

"I think your macho hero is going to start drinking right now, and he's not going to stop until he's convinced that everything that happened today is real. Or passes out. Whichever comes first."

"That sounds about right, doesn't it?"

"Unless I can persuade you to join me for dinner?"

Daryl met his eyes. "You know, I really appreciate what you did for me today. But the past five years have been rough. Perhaps you'll understand when I tell you that I'm really not up for going out to dinner with any man these days."

"Even me?"

"Even you."

"So."

"So."

"I guess this is it then."

"Yes. It is."

"You know, it doesn't have to be dinner. Maybe we could get lunch sometime?" Only a slight twinge in Setzer's voice betrayed his quiet desperation.

"Good bye, Setzer."

With that, Daryl turned and walked away. Setzer stood and watched her until she vanished into the crowd, unable to find the will to run after her.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"I read in the paper this morning that Locke Cole discovered an ancient abandoned city in the mountains next to Zozo."

"That's so cool! But it's probably filled with monsters, right?"

"No way, stuff like that is just in fantasy stories."

"Hey, I just wanted to say that I think Locke is really sexy. He wears these tight pants, right, and his hair is all short and spiky, and he's got such a delicate face, you just want to molest him."

"Listen, he could totally kick your ass. Anyway, my favorite one is Sabin."

"I think Edgar is way sexier. He's all regal and stuff, and he's got that long, gorgeous hair, too. I hear he's still single."

"Hey, Sabin is still single too!"

Daryl smiled to herself.

The girls laughed. "Hey," one of them spoke up, "what about Setzer? He's so romantic! Like, all the stories about the war describe him as 'the wandering gambler.'"

"And he's so handsome!"

Daryl burst out laughing. "You girls need to get a life."

"Hey professor," one of the girls interjected, "you know that he's here right now, right?"

"What?" Daryl stared at the girl.

"Well, I mean, he's got that company that makes airships, right? Apparently he's here recruiting employees. The university is holding a reception to welcome him this evening."

"I don't believe it," Daryl muttered darkly. "Maybe he'll do us a favor and start drinking early. That should keep him away." She shook her head.

Daryl's students continued to laugh as she returned to the meticulous business of measuring different samples. After the fall of Kefka, it was impossible to avoid Setzer's name. The airship research and development facility he had set up was wildly successful, supporting itself through fulfilling commissions. The complete annihilation of the imperial city of Vector during the war had witnessed the destruction of not only the vast majority of aircraft but also the engineers who constructed and maintained them. Setzer was one of the few people left with the detailed technological knowledge and considerate financial capital necessary to launch new ships into the sky. Both his fame and his charm had drawn scientists and engineers to him, and his company had no rivals. His talent for management or, Daryl mused, delegating responsibility had ensured the financial stability of even such an Icarian venture. If there was one thing Setzer loved more than figuring out ways to fly higher and faster, it was having money to play with.

After her own disregard for the limits of technology had resulted in the malfunction and subsequent crash of her own prototype airship, Daryl had hated Setzer for his blithe freedom. She had once scanned newspapers for articles about him, burning with resentment. He made stupid, impulsive decisions, and the world rewarded him for them. Over time, however, his name meant nothing more to her than that of any of the other heroes of the war. Her chance encounter with him a year ago was more of a nuisance than a godsend. She had had no trouble making use of her restored access to her old bank account, but she resented Setzer's assumption that she needed the money; her current research would have made her more money than any residual patent royalties. His assistance was simply too little, too late, and she could have done without his condescension. And yet, somehow, knowing that he would be here, so close to her, made her nervous. She hoped that she wouldn't have to see him.

The afternoon light streamed through the laboratory's west-facing windows and created bright outlines of refraction around the glass tubes and beakers on the table in front of her. She paused in her work and allowed the dull buzz of the soft chatter of her assistants to wash over her. Suddenly a knock sounded at the door of the room, which swung open without further preamble.

Of course this would happen, Daryl thought to herself before adjusting her face into a smile and standing to greet the visitors. Her university department chair was leading none other than Setzer Gabbiani.

The chair filled the room with his booming voice, introducing Daryl and her students, who stood at attention. To give them credit, Daryl smiled to herself, they weren't blushing or gawping like idiots. Their earlier conversation was filler; this was business. The department chair, who had given Daryl her doctorate and then immediately hired her, explained her research to Setzer in the tones of a senior scholar habituated to lecturing. The dust and ash caused by collapsing continents had not cleared from the atmosphere, and the correspondingly acidic rains had rendered the majority of the world's arable soil increasingly arid. Although it had taken many months for these aftereffects of the war to fully manifest themselves, food shortages would soon become a critical problem. Daryl was developing a chemical fertilizer that would reverse the effects of the polluted rain. Even though this fertilizer was extraordinarily cost effective; the chair explained, the patent alone had the potential to become a goose of the golden egg laying variety.

Daryl fought to keep a pleasant, attentive smile on her face. Of course the holder of this patent would be not her but rather the university. Her name would be attached to a publication, perhaps, but only under that of the chair, who was effectively her managing director. Her students would be lucky to be mentioned at all, and neither she nor they would see more than an annual bonus in their stipends completely incommensurate to the value of this project. As the chair recounted facts relating to volcanic ash in the clouds, Daryl felt like rolling her eyes. Did this man honestly think Setzer had not accounted for the problem in the coating of fibers that covered the gas bag outer frame of an airship? Did he think that Setzer would not have had to make significant adjustments to the rear engines of the ship, which would be directly in the windstream pathways of the fine particulate matter that was deflected off this fiber? Daryl thought she could see Setzer struggling to maintain his poker face. He met her gaze briefly and slightly upturned a corner of his mouth.

At a small pause in the chair's words, Setzer took the opportunity to interrupt him. "I believe Daryl and I have met before," he smiled. "And I am familiar with her research. It's my understanding that one of my employees may have borrowed from it rather liberally for a rather specialized application." He turned directly to Daryl. "Perhaps we could discuss the matter at the reception this evening. I would love to hear more about your work."

The light from the windows shone silver on his hair, which framed his face. His eyes sparkled with poorly disguised amusement at the facade of treating her as a mere acquaintance, performed in front of this pompous windbag of a professor. It was a private joke they shared, his eyes seemed to say. Daryl's ossified resentment cracked slightly, and she felt her artificial smile melt into something more genuine. Still, Setzer's assumption of the closeness of the bond between them chafed at her. He wanted something from her, and he assumed he would get it.

"Maybe another time. I would love to discuss this project with you and my assistants if you could come back tomorrow morning. If you'll excuse me, we're working under a bit of a deadline right now, unfortunately." She turned to her students, who nodded their heads in assent.

"Well then," the chair interjected. "We do have other places to be. Thank you for your time, Daryl." He shook her hand briefly and headed back towards the open door. Setzer hesitated briefly, as if he were debating shaking her hand himself, but in the end he merely flashed a perfunctory smile and followed the chair out of the room, swinging the door shut behind him.

Almost as soon as the door had closed with a resounding thud, Daryl's students relieved the tension by laughing loudly, each of them at once.

"At least now we know that part of the stories about him is true," one of them giggled. "He's really handsome."

Draining his wine glass, Setzer found himself trapped in a conversation he didn't have the energy to escape. Normally he thrived on being around other people at large events like this, but Daryl's rejection of his invitation earlier had disheartened him. He had come to this university under the pretense of hiring new recruits, but his true desire has been to see her, if only for several moments. He had realized that wish. How could he have hoped for more? All he could do during their brief conversation was look at her with naked longing, and she had every right to turn him away as firmly as she had. How was it that he still loved her, after all this time?

One of the waiters circulating through the banquet hall appeared at his side and refilled his glass with the cheap red wine being served at the reception. The party had gone on into the evening, and the academics in attendance were growing loquacious as the gas lights dimmed and the staff became more generous with the alcohol. Setzer currently found himself in a small circle of professors who possessed either a polished enough sense of social grace or a deeply ingrained enough sense of innate superiority to not be awed by his presence; they did not defer to him but instead spoke to him freely. Setzer had initially found this refreshing after the obsequiance that permeated the gathering, but now it was beginning to wear on him.

A scholar of the epic cycle detailing the War of the Magi was expounding on its archetypes. At the moment he was discussing the trope of the trickster god, whose role was aid the heroes, even as he seemed to hinder them with his self-centered diversions.

"This character is an outsider," the professor explained, "and has a close connection to flight and the winds. In his gifts to the heroes, he demonstrates an awareness of technology that seems out of keeping with the general setting." The scholar laughed, his breath reeking of alcohol. He was past the prime of middle age, with a slack face and graying hair. "What do you think of this character?" He glanced slyly at Setzer.

Setzer raised his glass in a token toast to the professor. "I see your analogy, and I will admit it's very clever, but I'm afraid that I'm going to have to disagree with your implied equation. If I were to fit myself into an archetype, perhaps it would be that of the glory-king, powerful and triumphant. But of course things are described differently in the stories that are told about the war. I read that I am a gambler who fights with cards and dice, as if luck alone were enough to carry me through battle. I read that I was a lost cause, rescued from myself twice by the wiles of a beautiful young girl, as if a pretty smile is all it takes to change the course of one's life. Should I write my own history, then, and make myself the hero? Should I write a confession and describe what it's like to be a fugitive from warm meals and hot showers, always worried that a sudden ambush at the next landing will be the end of everything? Should I tell stories of honor and battle and swords half as tall as I am? Perhaps I will write something, when I am older and need to publish my boasting to convince people to sleep with me. For now, though," Setzer rose to his feet, "I have better things to do."

The evening had progressed in spite of itself, and Setzer hadn't been given an opportunity to eat yet. If he were to eat, he didn't want it to be at this party, with these people. On his way out of the banquet hall, he lifted two glasses of champagne from a silver tray and then slunk through the shadows lining the walls in order to escape unnoticed.

As he walked quietly through the university's halls, he wondered at his actions. Was he really heading for the destination his feet led him to?

Without knocking, he pushed open the door of the laboratory he had visited earlier that afternoon. The harsh glare of an electric lamp illuminated Daryl, who was perched on a stool next to a high table and bent over her writing. She turned toward the sound of the opened door.

"I thought I might find you here," Setzer said.

"I thought I told you I wasn't interested in going to the reception tonight," Daryl responded as Setzer crossed the room.

"That makes two of us then." Setzer offered her a champagne flute, and she accepted it.

The two sipped their drinks in silence until Setzer blurted out, awkwardly, "Come work with me."

"You want me to work for you?"

"No, I want you to work with me. I want you to be a partner in my company."

"Why should I do that?"

"I think you know perfectly well."

"And what if I don't want to?"

"Do you really want to stay here?"

"Asking me to choose between the lesser of two evils is hardly an appealing proposition."

Setzer set his glass down on the table and took Daryl's free hand between both of his own. In this light, the determined look in eyes betrayed less of an easy confidence than it did a terrible sadness. The bright white electric light highlighted the bruised darkness under his eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks.

"Daryl, I'm sorry," he began. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you. I'm sorry that I didn't find you, and I'm sorry that what you went through wasn't immediately cleared up as an idiotic misunderstanding. But you didn't need me to save you, and you still don't. What I can offer you, though, has nothing to do with me, and it's well worth taking. Please forgive me. Please work with me. Without you as my partner, I can only manage half of what I could do with you by my side."

Daryl was surprised to hear Setzer speak so earnestly, for once in his life. Although she wouldn't meet his eyes, she made no move to withdraw her hand from his. The silence between them was thick and uncomfortable.

Setzer released her and picked up his champagne flute. Daryl looked at him, but the moment had passed. "At the very least," he smirked, I won't claim the money you stand to make from your research."

"It's all about money with you, isn't it?"

Setzer laughed. "What good is luxury if you don't have money to spend on it? Speaking of which, I think I'd like to get away from this place and go out to dinner. Eating alone would be pathetic, so I'm not going to leave until you agree to go with me."

"You're not giving me much of a choice."

"Dinner on the waterfront is hardly equivalent to a choice between two evils. We can talk about soil, and pH levels, and chemical fertilizer. We can talk about how you will save the world, and how extraordinarily rich that will make both of us."

"How could I refuse such an opportunity for pure intellectual exchange?" Daryl smirked as she climbed off her stool.

"It's settled, then." Setzer grinned offered Daryl his hand.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

True to his word, Setzer had indeed reserved a table at one of Nikeah's waterfront restaurants. Not being one to settle for the merely adequate, he had reserved the entire balcony terrace, from which the staff had cleared all but one table overlooking the waters of bay, which sparkled with the reflected lights of the city. Having more important things to discuss than food, Setzer had waved away the offered menus and left everything to the chef. Daryl, used to Setzer's excesses, consented to make small talk as the sommelier crossed the patio and presented them with wine.

As his retreating footsteps faded, she remarked, "I see you've lost none of your taste for luxury."

Setzer smiled. "Consider this a conspicuous display of entrepreneurial promise."

"This company you've started has been prospering, then. How sweet this short-term success must seem to you."

"How you doubt me, oh ye of little faith. Was our former company such a drain on your finances?"

"If I recall correctly, our former company was swallowed by a vast empire with a taste for airships. By the end of it, it was no longer our company, and we were lucky to escape it with our own prototypes. You've now set yourself up in the middle of Figaro, another small kingdom that has distinguished itself by its hunger for technology. You must forgive me my qualms concerning your judgment in this matter."

"A valid point. As perspicacious as ever, I see." Setzer sighed and brought his wine glass to his lips in acknowledgment of the weight of his former partner's words. "The difference in the two situations is that, in this case, I happen to be very good friends with the king. For what it's worth, I can vouch for his character. We did save the world together, after all."

"And has this royal friend of yours given you the capital to launch your venture?"

Setzer laughed. "I am more than wealthy enough to supply my own capital, my dear. Of course, I was never one to turn down a tax break when offered."

"That would simply be foolish, wouldn't it," Daryl smirked. "Did this offering from your friend happened to be accompanied by a large commission?"

"I have received several large commissions, and I would like to think that I have better uses for petty change." Setzer leaned forward to refill Daryl's wine glass. "At the moment, however, I find myself severely short of staff. Perhaps you will lend a sympathetic ear to my predicament when I say that we are in dire need of trained and qualified engineers."

"That is indeed tragic."

"I also foresee a future shortage of test pilots."

"You don't seriously expect me to fly again."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you found yourself unable to resist the allure. If you feel you must stay grounded, however, you'll find that the dashing young king of Figaro is extraordinarily interested in turning his desert into arable land. If you don't feel that I can reward your research handsomely enough, you can always work directly for the castle."

"I'm still having trouble accepting that you fought alongside the king in the war."

"Ah, but I did."

"So you helped save the world. You."

"Yes."

"So you fought monsters with a sword."

"Fantastic, I know, but true."

"So you learned to use magic from a rock."

"I find it hard to believe myself."

"You didn't spend the whole time drinking and gambling."

"There might have been a bit of drinking and gambling, I don't mind admitting it."

"Honestly."

"I also learned to cook, have you heard stories about that?"

"You're aware that this is becoming increasingly difficult to believe."

"I assure you that I am completely and utterly serious about my acquisition of culinary skills. Perhaps you would be more likely to believe me if I confessed that I learned in the company of two beautiful young women?"

"Terra and Celes, I presume. What are those two doing these days?"

"One of them is rebuilding a city on the easternmost edge of the southern continent, and the other is helping her. They've made quite a nice life for themselves, I understand."

"You understand. Should I assume that you don't regularly visit them?"

"Of course I do. What good is an airship if you don't have anywhere to fly? Don't tell me you're jealous."

"I think I would have more reason to be jealous of the men whose company you shared for two years."

"Who would spread such a vile and salacious rumor about me?"

"I would find it difficult to list all of the young braves who offer their services in the city's salons."

"I am aware, Daryl, that this might be stretching the bounds of credibility, but there are far more people bragging about having once shared my bed than even I have had the leisure to dally with."

"Because you're such a catch, obviously."

"That's the first sensible thing you've said all evening. More wine?"

"Do you think that will help you persuade me to join your business venture?"

"No. I believe I've already convinced you of the worthiness of the enterprise. Now I'm simply trying to get you to sleep with me."

Daryl sighed and took a generous sip from the glass in front of her. "Setzer, I don't know why I even bother with you anymore."

Midnight found the pair strolling down the moonlit streets of Nikeah. Setzer had offered Daryl his arm, and she had taken it. The two whispered to each other like conspirators as they approached her townhouse in the university district of the city. Daryl brought them to a halt in front of a stately building surrounded by a small garden and enclosed within a wrought iron fence. Its eaves were adorned with winged fancies carved into the stone.

"Your tastes have grown more bourgeois since we last met," Setzer remarked.

"Let me say that the bank gave me a deal I couldn't refuse," Daryl smiled as she swung open the gate that she hadn't bothered to lock.

"You've kept up your garden quite nicely."

"Is it open cynicism I detect in your voice, or were you trying to hide it?"

"I thought I was being quite clever."

"Not as clever as I was in hiring someone to rake over this mess once a week. It wouldn't do to not keep up appearances."

"Showing off for the local gentry?" Setzer suggested as Daryl held the door open for him.

"More like not giving them an excuse to bother me." And indeed, the inside of her house was a mess, with books and papers strewn about between empty bottles and discarded clothing.

"If this is your foyer, I'd hate to see your bedroom."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"Is that an invitation?"

When Daryl didn't respond, Setzer simply followed her as she strode through the room and into a kitchen. She kicked open an icebox and removed a bottle of sparkling wine, popped the cork without fanfare, and turned to find Setzer already holding out two flutes for her.

"It's the rear garden that's the real mess," she said as she poured. She escorted Setzer through the back door and onto a patio threatened on all sides with vegetal overgrowth. Through the tangle, the outlines of statues shone palely in the moonlight. "The previous resident was something of a collector, apparently," she offered by way of explanation.

"My gods, Daryl, I'm not sure whether I should berate you for your gross negligence of your property or praise you for your obviously single-minded devotion to your work."

"The latter of which would also be an ill-disguised insult, I'm afraid. Why don't you simply content yourself to toasting a new partnership?"

"Allow me to do so, then." Setzer touched the rim of his glass to hers. "Here's to quitting this bloated city and returning to the open air."

Daryl drained her glass. "A noble toast."

Setzer had likewise emptied his glass, and he looked at Daryl askance in the brief silence as the two faced the garden. "Perhaps I should warn you that this is the part where I kiss you and drag you off to bed."

Daryl laughed. "I thought you were afraid of my bedroom?"

"I will force myself to be brave. I did save the world, after all," Setzer said, and then he kissed her.


End file.
